Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week

My Usual Online Time:

9 A.M to 12 P.M - 6 P.M to 1 A.M

Writing Levels:

Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Prestige, Adaptable

Genders You Prefer Playing:

Male, Primarily Prefer Male

Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive:

Balanced

Favorite Genres:

Fantasy, Scifi, Modern, Magical, Horror, Romance,

Genre You DON'T Like:

Furry

This is the future: a world without war, without true conflict. One where those that seek medical attention get it, one where crime is low--but what did man have to sacrifice to get it? The answer is simple...freedom. In this ever shrinking world, shrinking because technology is not only being used for you, it is being used against you. The world has changed. No longer to satellite countries exist to govern their own provinces, in their place rules the Conglomerates.

There are three for the whole world; From the tips of Canada to the southernmost end of the Argentine peninsula the North and South American continents make up one of three powers that be. From the British Isles, to Estonia and Finland down covering the African continent, is the second and second largest of the Conglomerates ruling over the European Union and Africa while the third Conglomerate and the largest took all Asia and Australia as its own. But what of the powers that were in place before the Conglomerate? They were petty, failing systems obsolete in the way they were governed.

Once the nations banded together to form the Triad, resources weren't so stingily hoarded and technology surpassed expectations. But these three powers had an agenda of their own and soon began subjugating their citizens. At first it was quite shocking, and sometimes--brutal. Yet after a while, people...accepted it. They accepted what they could say, and what they couldn't. Accepted birth rate laws, accepted no choice AS a choice. So as the people face a sort of martial law, their government had been secretly funding clandestine operations.

Political figure heads working the way up through the corporate and executive ladder, who were wealthy and powerful enough to engage in a little in-fighting making people disappear or perish by seeming accident was almost like a past time. Those elite few started up a program from 2027 that had been banned by the three leaders of the world: cloning of whole individuals. It was true that cloning had come a very far way since its first acceptance; at first the capacity for cloning was primitive at best. Only a few cells at a time were able to be made, but would die within hours. Now they can draw blood from a recipient and in a matter of hours have the organ they need to transplant. But the idea of cloning an entire person was on a whole other scale of ethics and morals.

But what if some didn't listen to their higher ups or the other Conglomerates? What if a few, say, pushed an envelope to see how far they could take it? Turns out, pretty damn far. Their research led them to producing the first, fully functioning clone within a week of the military's mandatory blood tests. It was an identical match to the Corporal whose blood had been used in the experiment. His fingerprints, his toe prints--even the correlation with his eyes and tongue were exact matches. He was a bona fide clone, no different from the real thing with one exception--memory. Memories were the key to everything.

Once they had figured out to implant identities in their clones, they began to replace the actual soldier's they were cloned from. These clones were utterly obedient, and could be easily controlled--they also showed signs of super human conditioning due largely impart to genetic engineering. These were to be the perfect soldiers. However, with anything revolutionary there were debaters, naysayers—dissidents. These people naturally had to be suppressed, even eliminated if they persisted or knew too much…

Alex Jacobs was your everyday lab technician. Not a brave guy by any standard, but he understood wrong from right and what was generally acceptable--or dangerous. That was why when rummaging through a computers file dump as usual, he stopped when he found a file named Operation: Sparta. Now, he knew what happened to the proverbial cat when it got too curious. But something urged him to open it, to look at what he had come across. So, looking over his shoulder briefly, bespectacled eyes glanced around at the dark room lit only by the dull luminescence of various computer screens before returning his gaze to the screen in front of him.

Ordinarily, he was ordered to destroy any and all files in the dump and not to open them. But the tech felt something bad about this particular file. The Conglomerate was acting weird within the last few years or so, secretive, and highly guarded. As his hand hovered the cursor over the file name, his heart began beating a little harder as he swallowed. Alex clicked the file and opened its contents, spilling its secrets. What he saw in front of him made him wish he hadn't. It was way above a guy like him. But sitting in disbelief, maybe it was a lapse in his judgement that made him continue searching the files.

"Test subject Micheal Dorian shows markedly enhanced human capabilities," Alex read aloud in a whispered tone. "He is capable of stopping vehicles in head on collisions with just his bare hands. Subject can lift objects weighing as much as seven hundred pounds or more."

Alex sat backwards in his chair that usually brought him some comfort, but now did no such thing. His mouth was slightly gaping and his eyes peered at the screen but he thought he was hallucinating. No human being could survive impacts with cars or lift several hundred pounds. What the hell were these things? Machines he could get, the security bots could undoubtedly be this strong--at least the heavier models. But he was looking at what seemed very much like a human being.

He leaned forwards again and began reading once more, this time he didn't have to read the words aloud to register that they were real. These subjects were fully adapted clones and were already in the initiation stage of replacing the soldier's they were the doppelgangers to. This information swirling in his head was undoubtedly setting off every mental alert he could possibly have. What were they thinking? Cloning whole humans had been a process strictly forbidden since 2027--nearly thirty years ago when the subjects lost control.

"Holy Christ." Alex whispered to himself. "This...this is unbelievable." He ten noticed the details of the file were linked to another file: Operation: Vanguard.

It was in this file that Alex found something that truly terrified him. Clones had been genetically modified in their fetal stage to accept nanomachines. Normally nanomachines weren't a problem. They had been used since the early twenty-first century. They'd even been instrumental in exterminating some forms of cancers by programming them to eradicate tumors and extra cellular grow patterns. These nanomachines essentially made their host a biological weapon able to adapt, regenerate as well as making them elite hackers from the get go. Not to mention all the further enhancements they did to the physical body making them even more powerful than their predecessors the Spartans.

The Vanguard was few in number, but their technological enhancements more than made up for it. They also seemed to be identified by call signs rather than regular names which meant they were individually selected. Names were for soldiers and these weren't your average run of the mill super soldier. These elite few could do some serious damage. After having seen more than enough, Alex minimized the touch screen and slumped back in his chair. He now had information that could get him killed but also start a war between the three world leaders that would undoubtedly result in their leader’s destruction and the rapid takeover from outside forces.

So now Alex had two choices: he could certainly delete the information as his job demanded, and perhaps live a long and uneventful life, or and this was a crucial thing, he could get this information outside and hope that the people see it and fight to shut it down. However this lone act would no doubt constitute treason and he would be killed for his transgressions should they find out—and they more than likely would. Jacobs could make a secure channel, but it would only last a short while. So would he stake his life on just a few minutes, or pretend people weren’t being murdered and replaced?

For a while, Alex sat there shaking. He didn’t want to even think of the prospect of dying. It terrified him. Yet the idea that people were being manufactured like dolls to simply be replaced scared him as well. Technology was a tool to be used, but not in the way they were using it. They had effectively made human life meaningless and forfeit. Alex drew in a deep breath to calm himself and his thoughts. First of all, who would he send it to?

Alex was looking around when the T.V monitor caught his attention. A woman by the name of Abagail was advocating for the families that had been reporting strange behavior among those of them that were in service. Apparently they had been acting distant, and lacked memories that they should have had; births of their children, deaths of loved ones. It had Alex rubbing his stubble covered chin, if he could get this information to her and she could expose the truth about the clones there would no doubt be an up roar.

Gathering her name and credentials he began tracking her down. It wasn’t an easy task bypassing fire walls to contact the office of a woman being a nuisance to the Conglomerate. Especially when one stopped to consider that he was out performing a super computer. He felt he wasn’t doing too bad in his age. Still, it would only last a few moments. He began uploading the files to her email account which he hacked as part of his ploy to look innocent. Then there came clatter as the door to the otherwise empty room opened up and several soldiers stepped in.
Alex stood up, standing in front of the computer as he looked at the men who all had stoic expressions. There were four soldiers in total with a fifth marching through the door. A small screen was just behind him detailing the amount uploaded on the touch screen.

“There has been unauthorized access to some…delicate material.” The fifth soldier moved further in the room, coming around the metal console.

“I see…so the fact that it was traced to this very room was a fluke then, was it?” The man had approached Alex and stared down at his face arms held behind his back.

“W-well I guess so, I’ve been deleting the file dumps as I always do, maybe that might have tripped something?” Alex responded but the soldier wasn’t buying it. He could seem to smell his fear like an animal.

“Really? Might I remind you that the penalty for treason…is death?” The soldier’s words were severely intimidating but his sense of purpose had grown.

It was now…or never. Swallowing hard, Alex jolted; spinning around to hit the accept button on the screen ending the transaction as it had been completed. He then found a vice like grip in the from of a black gloved hand clenching his throat.

“Where did you send that file to Alex?” Alex gurgled and spat, clutching the hand that was choking him before it tightened its grip crushing his wind pipe effectively killing him…

Speed of Light, Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week

Writing Levels:

Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Prestige, Adaptable

Genders You Prefer Playing:

No Preferences

Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive:

I play both equally to accommodate my partner.

Favorite Genres:

anime, scifi, fantasy, adventure,

Genre You DON'T Like:

smut

Abagail Grace Lee
27
Female
Journalist
5'4" ~132 lbs

Abagail groaned as the light filtered through the small window of her apartment, acting as her natural alarm clock which never failed in the summer time to wake her by five o'clock sharp. She raised a hand to rub the sleep out of her deep brown eyes with a yawn before she sat up and swung her legs out from under the covers, slipping her feet into some cozy slippers. There was a flashing blue light emitted from a thin strip of metal on her bedside dresser, calling to her attention that she had received an email, though she doubted it was anything more than one of her publishing team pestering her about due dates, or possibly the media attention she'd been getting lately. Normal life, in a nutshell. But before she would check up on that, she would shuffle out to the kitchen, not bothering to change out of her oversized tee shirt and baggy sports shorts, nor doing anything to her long brown hair, it laying in a frzzled mess atop her head and getting no better through its length half way down her back.

After having fed her pet corn snake, Diamond, Abagail moved on to eating her simple breakfast of a toasted peanut butter, honey, and banana sandwich. Only after she had fully cleaned up from the mess that entailed did the woman take Diamond out of her tank, the snake coiling up Abagail's arm as she started back off to her room to see what the email was all about. Upon picking up the bit of metal, she pulled it into two pieces, much like opening a scroll, a sturdy, yet thin film being produced between the two metal strips upon which a projection was displayed. Opening up her email, Abi found that she had a total of four separate emails, all logged as to herself, all with the tag line 'Service family leads', followed by a corresponding number. Knowing that she wouldnt be so stupid as to use email for sensitive information on her cases, Abagail opened up a few different programs to start running to decript her computer activity and the email origins. In the mean time, she set out her clothes for the day and set Diamond in a separate tank in the bathroom while she ran the water in the shower to heat up. Once it had reached a decent temperature, she stripped off the old clothes to take a morning shower and wrangle the beast her hair had become into something more manageable, and regular for her, a bun.

The shower ran long, mainly due to brunette playing with her corn snake by squirting water at it every so often and simply relaxing under the steaming hot streams from the shower head. By the time she got out, her skin was beat red, but even so, it felt good, so there was no regret to it. As a bonus, the decryption had finished, she able to simply return to her room and look at the results. They weren't.... normal, to say the least, however. The IP address wasnt from anywhere that Abagail could pinpoint, and yet, there were no records of any abnormal activity on her computer account, nor her email. Worried about the security of her devices now, she got dressed and finished what else needed to be done about her flat before she could sit down and try to rationalize this situation. The only way to figure out what was going on was to read into what these emails were and try to start piecing things together. Opening an email, though, Abi imediatly found that she had gotten into deep, shark infested waters..... Spilling secrets like this could be just as fatal as dumping in a bucket of bloody chum. Quickly bringing the two sides of the metal bar together to close the device, Abagail set the computer aside and took a few deep breaths. Next to her computer were a few pill bottles, most of them nearly empty. With a sigh, she took two from one, a half from another, and one from the last, as well as picking up her phone to text a 'friend' about setting up an appointment to get more medicine.

Damien sat quietly in the belly of the stealth model VTOL. Unlike most vertical-takeoff and landing craft, this solid matte black ariel craft with black tinted windows was designed a little differently and for obvious reasons. Though it could still hold a compliment of ten or so soldiers not including the pilot and co-pilot. The craft had reduced its acoustic, infrared, visual and radar signatures. It even implemented a stat-of-the-art stealth field which rendered the VTOL 'invisible' to the naked eye, especially at night. It did this by a sort of illusional camouflage; running all along the entire craft were tiny sensors barely a millimeter wide. When activated, it would take the image of what one side 'saw' and rendered it to the opposite side making the craft look invisible/ With the dark back drop of a night sky the discrepancy with the outlying shape moving extremely difficult to tell such a difference.

The red light gleaming over Damiens shoulder inferring to him their destination in the the frigid Siberian wastes had not yet occurred. He decided to go over what he had brought with him; he wouldn't be able to get a quick lift from the facility and possibly kill the commander, so he had to prepare for an extended stay behind enemy lines and possibly live off the land until coordinates were signaled to him for the next available transport. He had chosen a compound bow for hunting but also silent take downs, with a draw weight of seventy pounds. He also brought two quivers of twenty arrows each--one for use in the mission and one he would stash and come back later to get. All the arrows were broadheads with removable blades. He did this in case he needed something sharp to cut with.

He was also given a transponder for his use to be eventually picked up. Among other minorities, he was given a silence HK45 Compact. With the magazine, it weighed about 30 ounces and fired .45 ACP ammunition. It was a sort of emergency type option he supposed. A lot of people, usually unskilled, assumed that because it had a suppressor attached it was a choice weapon for the job. However, what a lot of them failed to realize was it 'suppressed' noise, it did not negate it entirely. So even with a suppressor, it was a last resort. Lastly, there was the suit they had given him. While neither a weapon or any real means of stopping kinetic rounds it would regulate the warmth his body produced keeping him from freezing to death. It could also produce a personalized stealth field but only for a short duration. Probably around 3 or so minutes before the generator recharged it.

He also brought with him a twelve inch survival knife sheathed on his left hip.. Also, strapped at an angle against the small of his back was a tactical tomahawk that was about two pounds in weight and a little over a foot long in overall length. The cargo door started to pen as the light turned from red to green. Whirling, howling winds that would chill even the most adaptive to the bone swept past Damien's face as he stepped slowly towards the ramp. The closer he got, the more bitter the snow bit at him. No thoughts raced through his clear mind, but the image of a destination. It was as though he were looking down over top a rat maze and could see the path to get from one end to the other. He didn't harbor things like fear or apprehension. Daily drills broke him of these distraction. Instead, there was only the objective. He hopped off the hovering aircraft and heard the door shut behind him.

Speed of Light, Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week

Writing Levels:

Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Prestige, Adaptable

Genders You Prefer Playing:

No Preferences

Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive:

I play both equally to accommodate my partner.

Favorite Genres:

anime, scifi, fantasy, adventure,

Genre You DON'T Like:

smut

Abagail decided that it would be in her best interests to lay low for the day, at least not going out to gather intel and just write up what information she had on her current case. Hopefully that would take her mind off of the strange happenings of that morning... After having eaten a little something, Abi gathered her snake to rest upon her shoulders, though she just as quickly wrapped around the girl's neck and poked up through her hair. Giggling slightly at the strange behavior that her pet always seemed to show, the journalist got to work on the report. It would be a couple of hours before she had written everything down, then compiled and edited it. With still a half of a day remaining, Abagail checked her phone to see that she had received her appointment set up, it being set three days ffrom then in the usual manor. With a sigh, she went back to her room, rationing her pills out for three days into a pill box before heading out to get some fresh air, after having put her snake into it's pin of course.

'Is it true what they say, that words are weapons..?', thought Abagail to herself as she walked along the sidewalk, down a route she knew well in her middle class neighborhood. Even if words weren't weapons, they could definantly taint the mind and one's perception of the world around them. In a way, that was part of her job, to have that effect on others, but she never thought about the effect on herself. Just reading over the email... it changed what she saw around her. It was the same block, with the same mid fourties couple, same three kids playing in the driveway, and yet... Had the mother been replaced..? Or even just across the street, what about the single man living in the next apartment complex? He had been in the military for well over twenty years and given many honorary statuses.... would he have been a victim? Taking a deep breath and focusing her thoughts, Abi pushed her strange happenstance of the morning aside. If she was going to speculate, it would have to be on reliable data, and to determine the information's reliability, she would actually have to read through it all, not just read a bit and be instantly repulsed by the disgusting misuse of life...

Shopping instantly came to the woman's mind as she cleared superstition aside. She needed to restock her pantry, and, as tomorrow was normally shopping day, she decided to simply do it today. Might as well if she's already out and about, right? In such spirit, she changed directions to start off on her mile walk to the grocery store.

About Us

Iwaku is a roleplay community. We don't just write stories - we live them! Roleplaying is stepping in to the life of a character and experiencing what they experience. Here on Iwaku, we're all about giving you the freedom to write anything you want while providing a safe and friendly community to do it in. Our site contains forum roleplay, chat roleplay, group roleplay, private roleplay, as well as other methods for living your stories.

Quick Navigation

Useful Links

Support Iwaku

We are a community ran by REAL PEOPLE! We are not a corporation or a company. Our server, domain, and software licenses are privately owned and paid for 100% out of our own pockets. To help pay for these monthly costs, we are more than happy to take donations from members in exchange for super spiffy extra tools and features on the boards. For more information you can view our Donating FAQs.